


A picture of normalcy

by ClemB



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClemB/pseuds/ClemB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after '6B'. Polivia established.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A picture of normalcy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer : I do not own Fringe, Peter or Olivia. No copyright infringement intended.  
> Originally posted on ff.net.

Olivia was fumbling with her keys, trying to find the one that would open her front door; she was having a hard time concentrating on the keyring in her hands as two strong arms were wrapped around her waist from behind, and warm, moist lips were trailing kisses along her neck.

"Mmh ... I've been wanting to do that all day. You know you drive me crazy when you put your hair up that way ?" She smiled and leaned back into the man's frame, enjoying their closeness.

"Yes, and you might enjoy it some more if you stop distracting me long enough so I can open the door." Peter chuckled and stopped the sweet torture he was inflicting on her neck, placing his chin on her shoulder, his hold on her strengthening.

Finally using the right key, Olivia unlocked the door and led them both into her apartment, leading her partner by his hand. He turned the inside lock to the left, sheltering them both into her home, before enveloping her again in his arms, swaying both of them gently.

"It's good to be home." She nodded against his shoulder and unsuccessfully fought against a yawn. Chuckling, he pulled back and looked at her, observing her face. Dark circles underlined her emerald eyes, a sign of fatigue he knew could be seen on his face as well; fine lines were drawn on her forehead, and her eyelids seemed heavy with sleep.

"Why don't you go change while I fix us something to eat ?" Their previous meal had consisted of a coffee and a bagel taken on the way to a suspect's house, more than twelve hours earlier. The last case they had worked on had been complicated, demanding a copious amount of work from all of them. But the Fringe team had, once again, postponed the end of the universe.

She smiled and pushed herself on her tiptoes, kissing him lightly on the lips. "You always have the best ideas." Letting go of his hand, she walked to her bedroom, intending on getting out of the filthy clothes she was wearing. They had spent the previous days between a low-class motel and the local police station, and she had barely had enough time to sleep, let alone wash the suit she kept in her truck - just in case.

Sitting on her bed, she took her shoes off, her jacket discarded on the nearby seat, and let herself fall backward, her head cushioned on the bedspread. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes for a second - just a few seconds, to reenergize for the evening, she thought.

Peter busied himself in the kitchen, putting some water to boil and seasoning the green leafs of salad he had found in the fridge. He was accustomed to Olivia's kitchen by now, and had forced her to add some vegetables to her grocery list more than once. She had barely had enough food to cook a proper breakfast when he had first looked through her cupboards, a few weeks earlier; and while he had enjoyed sharing the contents of her furnished liquor cabinet, he intended to make her have three decent meals a day.

Closing the fridge, he threw some spaghetti into the boiling water and set the table, adding a bottle of red wine on its center. He had cut two tomatoes and had mixed them with some ground beef, quickly making a bolognese sauce. It would have to do, but given how little they had eaten the previous days, he knew Olivia wouldn't be picky.

Not hearing any noise coming from the other occupant of the apartment, Peter walked quietly toward the bedroom, glancing to the bathroom on his way, in case Olivia had decided to take a shower. Pushing the french door opened, he smiled at the sight in front of him. There laid Olivia Dunham, agent extraordinaire, sprawled carelessly on her bed, her legs dangling on the side, fast asleep.

Her arms were up near her head, in a don't-shoot-me position, her lifted shirt revealing the white skin of her stomach. Joining her on the bed, Peter supported his head on his arm, his other hand finding her messy hair, stroking it softly. Her eyes fluttered open and her lips curled upward when she turned her head toward him.

"Hey." Peter leaned in and kissed her softly, waiting for her to come fully awake. He was surprised when her hand found its way to the back of his head, pulling his lips back on hers. She quickly deepened the kiss, her tongue caressing his languidly, while her hands stroked his hair and chest. Finally breaking apart, she was half laying on him; he had rolled on his back during their kiss, bringing her with him - or maybe she had pushed him backward, his foggy brain couldn't remember.

"Hey yourself." She grinned from her position above him, their legs tangled, her hair messy; she had rendered Peter speechless. "Is dinner ready ?" He nodded, his hands holding her hips. "Yeah, I made pasta and salad. I hope it's okay ?"

"Whatever you feed me with, I'll eat. You're a great cook, you know ?" She complimented him as he sat up, her arms holding onto his shoulders as she straddled him. Kissing her neck, he thanked her. "Shall we?' He nodded toward the kitchen and they both stood, his hand finding hers.

They moved comfortably around each other in the kitchen, bringing the pots to the table, Peter opening the bottle of wine. They sat close to each other, savoring their meal mostly silently, smiling and touching - inadvertently, of course - during dinner. Once their stomach were full, and the dishes put away in the washing machine, they moved to the couch, each cradling their glass of wine.

Olivia curled her legs beneath her, bringing her head to rest on Peter's shoulder. His right arm was wrapped around her back, his hand tracing invisible patterns on her thigh. They had turned the television on, the sound set on low volume, and were slowly drowsing in the comfortable atmosphere.

Sipping the last of their wine, they absently watched the pictures moving on the screen, their minds miles away from the movie. Placing their empty glasses on the coffee table, Olivia laid her head down on Peter's lap, his right hand finding its place back on her thigh, while his left one stroked her hair. Sighting, she burrowed herself some more into her lover's embrace, relishing in the warmth of his body, his presence relaxing her.

"This feels so...normal." she said contentedly, her eyes closing. He hummed, looking down at her. "Do you like it ?" She opened her eyes lazily, turning her head to look at him. "Yeah. We don't usually do normal, do we ?" she asked, referring to the hectic life they were both living. He shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. Her eyes were shinning, the flame of her love for him clearly burning behind her irises, warming him up inside out. "You were right, you know." She added, her smile growing, illuminating the room. "This is beautiful."


End file.
